


Make Me Up

by astralbarnes



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, Backstory, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Is an Idiot But We Love Him, Bucky Barnes and the 21st Century, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, Femininity, Feminist Themes, Fluff, Invisibility, Light Angst, Makeup, Matchmaker Wanda Maximoff, Mutant Powers, Mutant Reader, Not Canon Compliant, Past Character Death, Past Torture, Reader-Insert, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Sexism, Some Humor, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Teleportation, Unethical Experimentation, Violence, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 16:35:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14752428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralbarnes/pseuds/astralbarnes
Summary: “You know, one day you’ll poke your eyeball out doing that.”“Not all of us can pull off the racoon look like you Bucky. And as for me I prefer to use a little more artistry than simply smudging soot on my face and hoping for the best.”James Buchanan Barnes seems to have a real problem with your affinity for all things he deemed “girly”, as though he thinks it obscures your abilities to do your job, it's too bad he has no proof of that. In fact he’s so far gone that he seems to have forgotten you’ve taken him down in a sparring session more than once and if you recall one of those times you were wearing a killer glittery pink eye shadow look. So you wish he would lay the hell off. No one else on the team has an issue with the way you present yourself and if Bucky could just ask you about it instead of judging you maybe then you would explain yourself. Not that you feel as though you need to or that you particularly want to but if it got him to shut the hell up you'd certainly feel more inclined.But when you’ve been invisible for most of your life you learn to accept that people are going to see what they want to see despite what you might have to say about it.





	Make Me Up

**Author's Note:**

> This sort of came out of nowhere, the idea was just in my head, and then this happened. It's one in the morning so I haven't proof read or anything, so bare with me, I might not even like this come tomorrow lol. 
> 
> Basically, I've had enough of men, in particular, underestimating me, putting me into a box, and so on just because I'm not afraid of expressing my femininity. Wearing makeup does not make someone vapid or vain or self obsessed or stupid or insecure or whatever way you want to spin it. It's enjoyable and it's a pressure too, it's a lot of things, and I have a complicated relationship with it. But that's for me to deal with not for you to pass judgements on. Sorry I'm frustrated lol. 
> 
> Anyway, I know this isn't a major issue in terms of sexism, there's way bigger battles out there but it is definitely a part of a wider (Western - I can only speak from my experience) culture. It's annoying and belittling and frustrating. Why should anyone have to tone down their femininity just because masculinity is deemed superior or more respectable?!
> 
> p.s I don't actually think Bucky is sexist or would be sexist in this way, it's really just for the sake of the story and the feelings I'm experiencing, and all will be explained in later parts, he isn't an asshole I promise. Maybe a little bit of an idiot but we still love him! This will probably be 4 parts. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! I love you guys <3 <3 <3

“We’ve been out here for hours now and you still look  _that_  good,” Natasha voices cuts through the comms and everyone knows who she’s talking to before she even asks, “What’s your secret, Y/N?”

Natasha caught a brief glance of you somersaulting past in the fray, your hair still perfectly styled not a curl out of place, nor was a single nail chipped of their neon red colour and even the wing of your eyeliner was as sharp as ever. That was a talent in itself. It was something Natasha, Wanda and even once Maria Hill had simultaneously praised and interrogated you about. They just didn’t get how the sweat and the grime of your profession never seemed to affect your makeup.

“Setting spray, duh!” This is almost always your response to comments like these or a quip about hairspray because  _it’s only 99 cents at Walmart, Tasha._

Obviously, you know, as well as your team members that your appearance during a mission is the least of your worries. Still you’ve never seen anything wrong with taking pride in your appearance and for you that means makeup, cute nails, and carefully styled hair. It never gets in the way of your capability to do your job so you don’t see it as a big deal. If anything, it has your opponents under estimating you before the fighting even commences, which you can always use to your advantage. (And it reminds you of someone else you know.)

“Don’t you  _ladies_ ,” the word comes out with a bite of patronisation and disbelief that only one, James Buchanan Barnes, can pull off, “have more pressing matters at hand than who has the best nail colour?”

It’s amusing how he tries to offend you, it really is. And you can practically hear Nat rolling her eyes, as she doesn’t even dignify him with a response nor do you because at this point Bucky’s casual sexist comments don’t feel worth fighting.

Besides before you can even think of a response Sam cuts in, “You jealous that no one ever appreciated that smoky eye look you had going on, Frosty?”

All that comes from Bucky is a noise somewhere between a sigh and a grunt. The fight clearly occupying his ability to make a quick comeback not that he could ever really beat Sam in that regard. And thank god someone can handle ribbing with Bucky. Steve was hopeless, he never got the upper hand, Bucky had too many embarrassing stories from the 40's to hold over him. Tony always took it one too far, as per usual. It escalates with you as well but instead of Bucky feeling guilty or uncomfortable, it usually ends in you wanting to punch him in his stupid, smug,  ~~handsome~~ , face.

Currently the four of you are at the end of what's been a two week mission in New Zealand. A decent number of stragglers from the HYDRA/SHIELD fall out a few years back have returned here to one of their lesser-known bases to regroup. It’s a standard recon mission, scope the area, establish their routines, create a plan of attack, then get in, get the required information and get the hell out. It was the latter part that you were having difficulty with and unfortunately it meant the likelihood of HYDRA pulling an emergency self-destruct on the place was high. Especially if it would prevent the information you found getting back to your Head Quarters and it was valuable stuff, details about new weaponry, base operations, current experimentation plans, data from past experiments - including Strucker's era - and so on. You didn’t get a chance to look over it properly as Nat downloaded it onto the hard drive, but the glimpses you got definitely have you keen to get out of here. Also the fact that you don’t particularly want to die right now, even if it meant you would go down with killer winged eyeliner. 

Honestly, it’s times like these where you wish you where allowed on more solo missions. You could get in and out of here relatively undetected with your ability to become invisible. At the moment that would mean leaving your teammates behind and that’s something you cannot fathom doing in the slightest. So you continue throwing punches and kicks and occasionally firing a bullet into the numerous agents as you make your way towards the exit.

“How much longer before they blow this place up?” Sam questions.

Nat’s reply is immediate, “Ten minutes, if we’re lucky.”

“When do we ever get lucky?”

You have to refrain from scoffing at his comment,  _Barnes, ever the pessimist_.

The moment your attention shifts as you glance in his direction, several agents surround him, and maybe his negativity is warranted but his determination never wavers, is all it takes. As you're distracted from the two men who approach you, you don't see the fist that swings out to connect with a crack against your face.  _Fucker_ , your head snaps to the side, and you can already feel the pounding sensation shooting across your cheekbone. But before they can strike again, and do serious damage, you let yourself disappear. It’s the quickest move you can make in this fight. And it always elicits the same response from these goddamn HYDRA goons as they shout at each other a question you hear all too often;  _‘Куда она делась?'_ (Where is she?) 

“Over here, fellas.” You call out from behind them, perched carefully out of their reach on a wall of cement. 

They turns towards you just in time to see the barrel of your gun before a series of carefully placed bullets are lodge into their bodies, a shoulder and a knee, in order to effectively incapacitate them, you feel satisfied as they fall to the ground. Even going so far as to blow one of them a mock kiss because you may as well draw attention the peachy gloss on your lips and the way it accentuates them. The agent responds with a groan before you disappear once more. The current lack of people fighting you gives you a moment to assess the situation. The throbbing has taken over the right side of your face, which you know is going to hurt like a motherfucker once your adrenaline eases up, and aside from a few cuts and bruises you’re relatively unscathed.

Before you can even think to search for your teammates that goddamn self-destruct alarm goes off. The sound pierces the air, it’s shrill and irritating, and honestly you think it’s stupid that they even have an alarm; it’s just more of an incentive for you to get the hell out of here. Above the new wave of chaos you catch Sam as he flies overhead with Natasha tightly in his grip, she’s firing at agents on their way out, creating what looks like a relatively easy escape path. As you cast your gaze across the base a familiar glint of metal catches your eyes. Further from the exit than you is Bucky and he is pretty damn occupied. So that’s where you go. No man or  _woman_  is to be left behind.

The surprise of your form appearing out of seemingly nowhere (teleportation is pretty cool) on top of your aggressively feminine appearance - Bucky’s ever so gracious words – gives you about a four second advantage. It’s more than enough. Swift punches, thighs around someone’s throat – thanks Nat – a few quick kicks, a harsh blow to the head and you’ve taken out the last of the remaining agents.  _All in a days work_. With a relieved sigh you ran a hand through your hair and smile despite yourself because of course the curls are still intact.  
  
The clearing of a throat diverts your gaze up to Bucky. His arms are crossed over his chest, his gun back in its holster, and his expression is that of his special selection of exasperation that he only ever directs at you. (Sam totally has his own reserved look too).

“If you’re ready,” Bucky pauses surveying your appearance in a way that could only be explained as him mocking your pride, which is something only he can do and  _it’s irritating_   _as fuck_ , “then we need to get the hell out of here.”  

A roll of your eyes is all you manage in response before Nat’s voice cuts through your comms. “Barnes' is right. You’ve got about a minute before this place goes down.”

In one swift movement you step towards Bucky and place your hand on the exposed skin of his wrist where it’s tucked ever so slightly into his chest. He flinches at your sudden touch, like he does every single time, but you ignore it, you always do. Instead you focus on where the two of you need to go and in a soft pink flash of light you disappear. It’s as if no time has passed when you land outside the Quinjet but it has, teleporting doesn't make you exempt from time, because a mile or so behind you the base erupts into red hot flames, the smoke cloud shooting up into the air with a resounding boom, and you’re entranced by the sight.

It’s always so close with this job. A hit or a miss and today was a little too close to being a miss for your liking. If you didn’t have the abilities that you did, you weren’t sure the two of you would be alive right now. It's a terrifying thought and one you can't let yourself linger on. You turn your gaze back to Bucky, whose skin your hand still lingers on,  and you find he is already looking at you. Blue-grey eyes alight with relief and something that looks like gratitude but there’s no way he would direct such a feeling that towards you. It only lasts a moment before he forcefully shrugs out of your touch and turns to head up the ramp to the Quinjet. Oh, he’s definitely not shining that spark of gratitude at you. Anyone would be feeling grateful to have made it out of that hellhole alive and sure you were the one that technically saved him but it could’ve been anyone, Sam or Nat, he could've saved himself. It's not about you, is how you rationalise his expression, it's about the situation. 

Because Bucky Barnes only ever expresses frustration or akin feelings towards you and one mission isn’t about to change that. 


End file.
